


A Thousand Kisses

by angelwingsandhunterdreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Communication, Charlie doesnt want kids, Deans emotional constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I'm not implying lesbians cant have children, Lots of kissing, M/M, Michi made me do it, Slow Burn, Time Skips, a single man tear, and a special shout out to Dean's blushing cheeks, feelings are harder, in case that isnt obvious, is it a slow burn if its under 20k words?, it is in my book, its a choice, just kidding, of which I am obsessed, please love me anyway, sabriel if you squint, there are lots of those too, whatever, words are hard ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwingsandhunterdreams/pseuds/angelwingsandhunterdreams
Summary: The tenant before Dean and Cas never forwarded her Cosmo subscription, so naturally, they keep them and laugh over the relationship advice. When they come across an article claiming you can make anyone fall in love with you if you kiss them a thousand times Dean is convinced he's immune, and Cas is convinced that Dean would fall for it, and every other sane rational thinking person around them knows they don't need a thousand kisses, those two idiots are already in love.





	A Thousand Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michi27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/gifts).



> After months and months and dear god it hasn't been a decade already? I finally broke out of writer block hell, and bled this out all over my keyboard (and group chat) in two days. Its not long, its nothing like I usually write, but I got it out and Dear Chuck does that feel good to say. This started as a prompt by my little lovey Michi27, who popped in to our group chat yesterday and somehow single handedly broke through all my blocks by saying "a thousand kisses." What followed was a whirlwind of cheerleading, and advice giving, and general encouragement by the best group of weirdos, Michi herself, DaydreamDestiel who is always lovely and knowledgeable, Thatsnotwhoifuckingam who is possibly the only person in existence that can make me say the word Bird affectionately. And my personal cheerleader, my shoulder to cry on, my sounding board, my soulmate LoudanSwainfangirl, without whom I would have quit writing all together, and likely flung myself off a cliff in the process. You're all the tits. Thanks for helping me eek out less than 20k words of tropes, emotions, man tears, and schmoop when I don't do schmoop.

“Dean that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard” Cas said, rolling his eyes “of course you’d develop feelings.”

 

_Sure, if I hadn’t already_ Dean thought “You would” Dean not-so-cleverly replied “I could definitely kiss someone a thousand times and never catch feelings. I’m telling you, Cosmo’s wrong on this one.”

 

“Bullshit” Cas said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “First of all, isn’t it you that says Cosmo is never wrong? And even if I was willing to concede that this trash magazine isn’t completely adept at providing tangible relationship advice, in your case, it’s definitely accurate. For all your forced machismo you care more about people than anyone else I know.”

 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck in a failed attempt to hide the flush. It was pointless, this was kind of their schtick at this point. They’d met their freshman year of college as roommates, Dean clomping in to their dorm with all the subtlety of a pride of elephants. He’d been loud and brash and rude, a cocky grin on his face and a swagger in his gait when Cas had peaked over the top of his book and caught his eye for the first time. Neither of them remembered what they’d said, what was the exact witty retort Cas had thrown his way, but oddly they both remembered the slow flush that had crept up Deans neck and freckled cheeks.

 

Cas’s first thought had been “interesting” and Deans had been “oh fuck” though neither of them have ever shared that with one another.

 

But now, four years later, the dorm room had been traded out for a crappy apartment in a crappier building. The swagger had mellowed out a bit, the cocky boy starting to give way to a young man trying to find his way in the world. The witty retorts still came often on the part of Cas, but where initially they had been to establish a sort of hierarchy in a strange environment with a strange boy, now they were gruff affection for a young man that had become his best friend. Truth be told, those blushes and failed attempts to hide them were a common place in their relationship. For spectators they were one of many, many signs that these two were a couple, no one even questioned it anymore, it was simply understood that with one came the other, and the finer details of their relationship would work themselves out later.

 

For Dean, who might be the only one actually convinced he was doing a good job of hiding his rosy-hue, they were a natural progression of feelings that had crept up on him over the years. What had started as an immediate attraction for the quiet somber boy with the messy hair and ill-fitting clothes, had grown and blossomed in to something deep and consuming. Being around Cas was a visceral experience for Dean. He felt Cas in a tingle down his spine when he heard Cas walk in the room; in the goosebumps on his arms when Cas’s deep timber was in his ear, whispering commentary about whatever grainy movie they were pirating on their laptop; in the warmth that pooled low in his gut, unfurling through his body like a slow-creeping fog when Cas would full body laugh at something Dean had said that truthfully wasn’t that funny.

 

“Whatever, you tell yourself whatever you need to man, Dean Winchester doesn’t do feelings.” Dean said, leaning back and mirroring Cas’s body language.

 

“Right. You don’t do feelings. That’s why we read the relationship advice of Cosmo. I forgot, this is totally normal behavior for KU’s resident playboy.”

 

Dean snorted “we read Cosmo for laughs, no one believes this shit.”

 

Cas sat forward, elbows on knees and tossed the magazine in Deans lap. “Sure, its funny, but maybe for one or two laughs. You could have called at any time and notified the magazine that Jenny What’s-Her-Name no longer lives here and stopped the delivery, but you didn’t. Admit it, you want it. You want the meet-cute and the lovey feelings, and the happily ever after.”

 

“Do not.”

 

“You watch rom-coms” Cas said incredulously.

 

“I told you, I thought the girl was hot, I didn’t even know what that movie was about!” Dean argued, the excuse coming freely, as they’d had this argument often.

 

“And I told you, you share my Netflix account dumbass, no one watches every season of Dr Sexy because they think ‘the girl’ is hot.”

 

“It’s a guilty pleasure” Dean said, and look there’s that blush again.

 

Cas smiled in triumph “Sounds like the flimsy excuse of a romantic closet-case to me.”

 

“Shut up”

 

“Hey can you find my scarf for me while you’re in there? I think I gave it to that girl freshman year, you know, the last time I cared about having a relationship.”

 

Deans smile grew tight, as it always did when Cas reminded him he didn’t care about relationships. “hardy-har-har, look who’s got jokes.”

 

“You’re the one in the closet Dean, I can make jokes about my emotional stuntedness, because unlike you, I know I could kiss someone a thousand times and feel nothing.”

 

“Well on that at least we can both agree. God knows what would happen if you actually felt something.” Dean gritted out.

 

Cas stood, blissfully unaware of the pain he was causing, stretching his arms above his head and giving Dean a peek at a sliver of skin and one painfully sharp hipbone. “I imagine the world as we know it would end. Hell would freeze, Heaven would close, dinosaurs would once again become the dominant species.”

 

Dean slowly drug his eyes away from Cas’s exposed midriff to his face. “I need a drink.”

 

Cas visibly brightened and not for the first time Dean felt his chest constrict at the sight. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day. I’ll grab my keys, you call the girls.”

 

@@@

 

“Wait, back up, who would willfully kiss your ugly mug a thousand times?” Jo asked, subtly elbowing Charlie under the table at the way Cas cut his eyes at her for a split second. They had a bet, Jo maintaining that Cas was keenly aware of his feelings, and Charlie adamant that Cas remained clueless after all these years.

 

“Shuut up” Dean groused at her.

 

“I doubt Dean would have a hard time finding someone willing to kiss him, Joanna” Cas said, downing the last of his beer “that’s not the point.”

 

“Awe Cas, you saying I got game?” a very drunk Dean asked, leaning dangerously close in to his personal space.

 

“I seem to remember a time when you engaged in sexual activity regularly” Cas said “you were more tolerable before your self-induced bout of celibacy”

 

“And fuck you very much” Dean grumbled back at him.

 

Jo laughed, knocking back her beer. “Yeah, and this bickering married couple routine you two’ve got going on wouldn’t have anything to do with his dry spell” she said, rolling her eyes.

 

They both flipped her off, neither of them bothering to turn away from each other to do so. This was customary, Cas and Dean stared their way through conversations. As usual Jo laughed it off and Charlie watched, wheels turning in her own head the whole time.

 

“She’s got a point” Charlie offered up slyly, squeezing Jo’s knee under the table to get her attention. “This little experiment would only work if some poor unsuspecting soul was willing to vie for Dean’s attention, and no one is dumb enough to try and play second fiddle to you Cas. Everyone knows that.”

 

Cas frowned at her “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Oh nothing” She said all fake innocence. “It’s just that you two are so close, that’s going to be a deterrent for anyone looking to win over our fair Dean’s affections. You’re an awfully needy roommate after all. Almost like a boyfriend one might say. And they do say that incidentally, in case you two didn’t know that.”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean asked.

 

“No one thinks we’re a couple” Cas said.

 

Jo snorted in to her beer. “Everyone thinks you’re a couple.”

 

Charlie nodded along “I mean think about it: you’re attached at the hip, you wear each other’s clothes, you spend holidays with each other’s families for Christs sake.”

 

“Do you even have any straight friends?” Jo asked.

 

Dean and Cas exchanged a look.

 

“uh”

 

“Innias is straight, isn’t he?” Cas said thoughtfully.

 

Dean furrowed his brows at him “dude, not only gay, in love with you.”

 

“Shut the fuck up” Cas said.

 

Dean just glared at him “how are you so smart and so clueless at the same time?”

 

“Fine. Maybe I should have seen that one. What about you tough guy, who do you know that’s straight?”

 

Dean sat up triumphantly, grinning at all of them. “Easy. Benny.” He said with a flourish, slamming down his now empty beer bottle.

 

Jo busted out laughing so loudly people turned around to stare.

 

Cas chuckled “Benny’s a stripper at Swinging Richards, you idiot.”

 

“What? How the fuck do you know that and I don’t?”

 

“I do on occasion go out without you Dean.”  Cas fired back.

 

“To a gay strip club? What the fuck man, you know I’ve always wanted to go there.”

 

Charlie and Jo exchanged a look.

 

“Yeah, see this right here, this is why people think you’re banging.”

 

Dean sat back with a huff. “Whatever, but we’re talking about this later.”

 

Cas mirrored Deans slouch, leaning in to him a bit.

 

“Well I guess its pointless anyway. Apparently, all of KU thinks were fucking each other, guess you’ll have to wait until after graduation to have your thousand kisses and epic romance.” Cas said.

 

“Yeah. Except you’ll still be my roommate at least until we can pay off our student loans and can afford to live on our own, so I’ll prove you wrong in the retirement home we both live in, since I’ll be paying on my loans at least that long.”

 

“or”

 

They both looked at Charlie, and really, it was a testament to how drunk they both were that neither of them seemed to notice the faux innocence on their friend’s face. Say what you will about Charlie, she may be a genius but playing it cool had never been her forte.

 

“You could always be each other’s thousand kisses.” She said coolly.

 

Dean felt his chest tighten at the thought, choosing not to say anything, and going completely still next to Cas.

 

“Excuse me?” Cas asked her.

 

Jo perked up, catching on to the plan “Hey that could work!”

 

“Are you high? You could have at least shared.” Cas said.

 

“No, she’s got a point” Jo said.

 

“You’re the one that made it clear that you’re immune to feelings” Charlie said “who better to prove the point?”

 

“I’m not seducing my best friend” Cas deadpanned at her.

 

“Hey, woah, who said anything about seducing?” Charlie replied innocently. “I said kisses, a thousand of them to be exact. Seduction wasn’t part of the bet.”

 

“What bet, there’s no bet” Dean chimed in, completely ignored by everyone at the table.

 

“Yeah, but I already told you, there’s no way Dean can do that without falling for the person he’s making out with.” Cas said with a frown.

 

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

 

“I’m not so sure that’s true” Jo said coyly “he hasn’t been on a date in years.”

 

“Hey”

 

“Yeah, maybe Dean isn’t the one that you’re worried about.” Charlie said.

 

“Everyone knows Dean has the emotional maturity of a toddler with finger paints” Jo added in “maybe its you that we should be worried about Castiel.”

 

“Am I actually invisible? Can you see me?”  


“I’m not emotionally immature just because I don’t want a relationship” Cas said affronted.

 

“Did I finally learn how to astro-project? And you said all those sci-fi shows were a waste of my time”

 

“Whatever you say man, we’re not the one’s afraid of accidentally falling in love with the guy who’s never had a real relationship.” Jo said with a cocky smile.

 

Silence fell over the table at that, and everyone looked at Dean.

 

“What, she has a point on that one.” Dean said with a shrug.

 

“I need a fucking drink” Cas mumbled, sliding out of the booth and heading for the bar.

 

“Cas wait up” Dean said, scrambling out after him and completely missing the wink from Charlie and the returned cheek kiss from Jo.

 

“Man, don’t let them get to you.” Dean said, sliding up next to Cas at the bar and clapping him on the shoulder. “There ain’t nothing wrong with not wanting to date someone. Just because those two are practically living out of each other’s pockets and have been since freshman year doesn’t mean everyone’s gotta have that. Who says you gotta do the love thing anyway? You and me, we do just fine. Hell, better than fine! Apparently, everyone thinks were all in-love or whatever anyway. And me personally? Id take what we got over all that romantic bullshit any day. Don’t even stress about it. There ain’t nothing wrong with you.”

 

Dean turned Cas to face him, flashed him his most cocky grin, and froze at the look on Cas’s face. They stood there, a beat longer than anyone would find comfortable, and then Cas cupped his hand around Deans face and moved in.

 

Dean would swear he moved. Years later he’d tell this story and in his theatrical rendition the plan would have been his all along. He’d tell about how Cas cupped his face, but it would be him that actually made the move, leaning forward and capturing Cas’s lip in a searing kiss that left them both panting and wrecked.

 

In reality, save for Dean’s heart pounding hard enough to visibly vibrate his chest, Dean remained frozen. Cas’s fingers cupped around his face, the slide of them moving back behind his head, that was searing all right, but Dean didn’t move. He stood stock still, eyes wide open in shock as Cas leaned in, the pink slightly chapped lips softer than he’d expected. Cas was firm, not bruising, not aggressive, but his mouth was a firm press against Dean’s own, a feeling he’d thought about for years but didn’t expect would be like this. He didn’t register the taste of beer on Cas’s lips, the solid weight of Cas’s shoulder still under his hand. His eyes didn’t flutter closed the way they did in the movies. All in all, it might have been unremarkable under other circumstances. But this, this kiss, in the middle of a bar, surrounded by the noise and the lights and their own racing hearts, this kiss was the start of something. Something a thousand stolen moments long, and better than any silly movie Dean had ever wistfully watched as he daydreamed about his best friend and what it would be like if he ever had the courage to make a move.

 

This was the kiss that started it all.

 

Pulling back, and then placing a lighter barely-there kiss number 2 on Dean’s lips, Cas finally made eye contact with the friend he’d always tried his best to not think of in this way and said

 

“You better be right Winchester.”

 

And that night, they’d all went their separate ways. After, Dean had laughed it off and said it didn’t even faze him. After, they’d brushed their teeth and drank water in their tiny kitchen and laughed at the absurdity of the night. When Dean was in bed, he hadn’t congratulated himself on his best-formed plan, the way the story would be told at the bemusement of his husband years later.

 

Instead, Dean Winchester went to bed with an ache in his heart and a worry in his gut of how he would ever tell his best friend that he was so very wrong. That he could never withstand a thousand kisses without loving him. Because truth be told, he’d loved him a little bit since whatever that snarky retort had been said to him 4 years earlier, when Dean had first felt the blush creep up his own neck at the rumbly voice of who would become his best friend.

@@@

 

2 months and still just the two kisses later

 

“Cas” Dean mock whispered, sliding in to Cas’s bed and waking him up. “Cas, are you awake? Cas wake up I gotta tell you something.” Dean had whisper-yelled next to Cas’s face, while he slowly opened one bleary blue eye.

 

“What do you want Dean?” Cas grumbled turning his head to face Dean, his eyes going cross-eyed at the closeness and wrinkling his nose at the smell of whisky on Dean’s breath.

 

“Remember that night? That night that you, you know, kissed me or whatever…” Dean slurred out.

 

“I remember” Cas had grumbled.

 

“I wanta see the dancing men.” Dean said.

 

“Huh?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, clearly he was making sense and Cas was just trying to fuck with him. “You said we could go watch Benny dance.”

 

Cas frowned, sitting up and punching his pillow that had gone flat, before flopping back face down with a yawn. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“That night, the night when you kissed me, remember that?” Dean hiccupped, his face sliding in to a dopey smile Cas didn’t notice. “You said Benny was gay and he dances and you’d take me there.”

 

Cas snorted. “I’m pretty sure I said nothing of the sort. What made you think about that anyway?”

 

“Saw Benny, and he kissed me, but it wasn’t like your kiss at all and I remembered you never took me to see the gay guys dance at Dicks.” Dean grumbled, eyes slipping shut.

 

Cas sat up a little at that. “Benny kissed you?”

 

“Uh-huh”

 

“And now you want to watch him dance at Swinging Richards?” Cas asked, eyebrows drawn in confusion, and a sharp pang in his gut he couldn’t identify.

“huh? Oh...no, I just want to see the swinging dicks.” Dean mumbled. “Tired. Can I sleep here?” Dean asked, already well on his way to snoring.

 

“Do I have a choice?” Cas asked, grinning and feeling relief for something he couldn’t identify.

 

“Nope.” Dean said, yawning. “You owe me like a million kisses, and you need to take me to see the dicks.”

 

“Nine hundred and eighty-eight.” Cas corrected, smiling at Dean and stowing this all away to tease him about later.

 

“Whatever. Never gonna admit I love you if you don’t kiss me and show me dicks.” Dean mumbled.

 

Cas’s eyebrows raised in surprise

 

“Admit?” He questioned, but Dean was already too far gone to hear him.

 

Cas laid there, staring at Dean’s face, smashed against the pillow next to him, wondering what Dean meant. Dean was drunk for sure, he didn’t even know what he was saying. Tomorrow they’d laugh about how confused he was. That’s it. It was the whiskey.

 

Satisfied that this would all be funny in the morning, Cas relaxed. But before sleep completely overtook him, he leaned in and gently kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth. He’d tell himself later that it didn’t mean anything, but it would set a precedent for their relationship from here on out. Dean would fall in to his bed drunk pretty regularly, and Cas would steal a small kiss after Dean fell asleep. It didn’t mean anything, he’d tell himself.

 

A few hours later Dean would wake with a full bladder and a pounding headache. He’d glance past Cas at the clock reading 4:30 am, groan to himself and take a moment to wistfully look at Cas’s face in the light filtering in from the streetlight outside. He’d start to slowly pull himself away, sneaking off in shame to his room. But before he’d fully pull away, he’d steal a small kiss from Cas. And Cas’s sigh and small smile would twist his heart in painful ways, but he’d tell himself it was ok. That Cas could never know how he loved him, that he’d steal kisses while Cas slept. That this was all his quiet burden to bare. He’d sneak back to his room and ignore the pain in his chest at leaving, and unbeknownst to him Cas would reach across the bed and furrow his brow in his sleep. His own pain at the empty bed his quiet burden that he wasn’t even fully conscious of yet when he was awake. They’d both sleep fitfully, one of dozens of nights with this stolen routine.  But when they’d wake there would be no teasing. There’d be no admitting. There’d be stolen kisses in the dark, counting down a tally that neither would admit they cared about or even admit they thought about in the light of day.

 

@@@

 

Four months and 52 stolen kisses later

 

“Dean! Dean! I got in!” Cas yelled, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Dean came out from around the partition separating what passed for a kitchen from the rest of their apartment, wiping his wet hands on his t shirt, which would normally annoy Cas, but not today, today Cas was too excited to notice.

 

“I got my acceptance letter! I’m going to grad school in New York!” Cas beamed excitedly, barely registering the tight smile Dean gave him. Cas threw himself in to Deans embrace, hugging him with abandon, and spinning them around, before dropping him back to the ground. Without a second to think he’d grabbed Deans face and kissed him hard and quick on the mouth, pulling back in his excitement and immediately coming to a stop when he saw the pained look on his face.

 

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas asked with concern.

 

Dean smiled at him through his tears, his expression tight. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong, that uh...that’s great news.” Dean had managed to stutter out, and even to himself he sounded off.

 

Cas felt the tightness in his chest, crushing in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “I thought you’d be happy for me?” He said a little weakly.

 

“I am, I really am, I’m just uh...you know I’m just stressed with this final I’ve got in McGregor’s class. I gotta go, I need to study. We’ll go, you know, we’ll celebrate later.” Dean said, grabbing his bag and keys and headed toward the door.

 

“Oh…yeah, um, good luck with your test” Cas managed to stutter out, not that Dean heard him as he was already half way out the door.

 

Cas stood there, tears stinging behind his eyes and jaw clenched tight as he looked at the calendar stuck to the fridge where it was clearly highlighted that Dean had taken McGregor’s final at 9:30 am that morning.

 

@@@

 

Dean opened his eyes and glanced at the clock, not that he needed to, he’d been looking at it every 10 minutes or so all night. He watched it click over to 4:38 in the morning as he heard Cas’s low timber as he sang something incoherent, banging the door shut behind him. Dean’s eyes were swollen and red, having spent most of the day walking alone aimlessly and crying tears he didn’t have the nerve to shed in front of his friend. Dean never cried in front of other people, truth be told he was pretty sure he hadn’t cried since his mom’s funeral when he was 4. He might have expected that the tears would finally come over a broken heart from the only other person that had ever made him crave their presence the way she had. He’d been sad enough to cry plenty of times throughout the years. Broken over a father that had only been there in body, but never in spirit. He’d come dangerously close to crying over his brother Sam a few times. He’d certainly felt broken as a kid when Sam had cried his little chubby-faced tears for a mom that wouldn’t ever be there to kiss his skinned knees and hug him after a school play.

 

Dean had felt pain, he’d felt joy, he’d felt loss, but nothing prepared him for the gut-punch feeling of seeing Cas so elated to be leaving him.

 

He’d expected the tears to come loudly, that he’d sob, truth be told he was surprised he hadn’t begged Cas to stay. He hadn’t expected the quietness of his grief.

 

So he’d walked alone, warm by the spring sunshine that didn’t quite resonate. Inside he’d felt cold, he’d felt fear. He walked and silently cried, just a few tears hear and there, as the day went on without him.

 

Around dusk he’d made up his mind; he would go home and he would tell Cas how he felt. He’d confess that he wasn’t strong enough to withstand a thousand kisses, that he wasn’t strong enough to withstand one. That he’d loved him before they’d ever touched their lips in any intimate way. He’d tell him that he was happy for him, that he wanted Cas to go, and then he’d beg to go with him.

 

He had a plan.

 

This would work.

 

He went home, he showered, he put on the shirt that Cas said looked good enough for an interview. He made dinner. Nothing fancy, they were poor college kids after all, but he could boil some noodles and open a jar of spaghetti sauce and Cas would be happy there was food no matter what it was.

 

He waited.

 

At 8 he turned on the oven to low and put everything inside so it would be warm, if a little dry.

 

At midnight he turned off the oven, threw it all in the trash and washed the dishes methodically.

 

At 12:14 am he looked down at the spot on his shirt from the greasy dish soap that had splashed on him when his hands began to shake and his vision had gone blurry from more tears threatening to spill.

 

 

 

At 12:15 he pulled the shirt off and dropped it listlessly in the garbage atop the pile of ruined spaghetti and told himself it was over.

 

By 2 he was so drunk he fell trying to get in to bed.

 

At 2:15 he had sobbed, as he threw up a days’ worth of stomach bile and broken heartedness and resentments and regrets.

 

By 3 he was resolute, he wouldn’t tell Castiel of his feelings for him.  He would help Cas pack his bags, send him off to New York, and remain his friend from a distance. He could do this. He’d been holding back for so long, he could do it longer. Cas didn’t need a relationship. Didn’t want one, he’d said so often enough. Him being out celebrating despite knowing Dean was upset was proof enough. Poor guy probably didn’t know how to tell Dean the truth. He was moving on, and Dean couldn’t, but that wasn’t Cas’s burden to bare.

 

And now, at nearly 5 am he listened to Cas sing his sad off-key melancholy song, punctuated by him falling around the apartment in a drunken stupor. Resolutely, Dean got up. He squared his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and he went to help his best friend recover from a night out celebrating without him. He found Cas in the bathroom, his clothes a mess, lipstick clearly belonging to Jo on his cheek, leaning his other cheek against the toilet with his eyes closed.

 

“Cas buddy, you ok?” Dean asked, his voice rough with the emotion and the residual affects of his own drunken coping from earlier.

 

Cas kept his eyes closed, but he smiled a bit anyway. “Dean. You’re here. I was waiting all night for you to be here and you weren’t, but now you are.” Cas mumbled incoherently.

 

“Yeah I’m here” Dean said, squatting down and running a hand through Cas’s sweaty hair. “Sorry I wasn’t there, shoulda been.”

 

“I drank too much”

 

Dean snorted and then felt his stomach clench “yeah, think you might have.”

 

“I can’t do this without you. I can’t go without you. I need you to be happy for me.” Cas said, voice clearer than it had any right to be with the alcohol in his system.

 

“I am.” Dean managed to choke out. “I’m proud of you, you know that.”

 

Cas tried to sit up, attempting to focus through the haze. “But you aren’t happy.”

 

“Cas I…”

 

“Tell me why” Cas said resolutely. “Just tell me. We don’t have to talk about it ever again, we can pretend like we don’t remember, whatever you need to do, Dean. Just be honest with me.”

 

And for a moment Dean considered it. Cas was so drunk he couldn’t sit up straight without Deans help. His eyes were glassy, his speech was slurred, truth be told Cas probably wouldn’t remember. Dean could bare his soul, he could say all the things he’d been biting back for years.

 

But he couldn’t.

 

Not like this.

 

This wasn’t the plan.

 

This would never work.

 

So Dean took a steady breath, he held still so Cas could focus on his face, he looked him in the eye and said “I’m happy for you Cas.”

 

And Cas threw up. He puked and he sobbed and in between while he tried to catch his breath, he grumbled out hateful things.

 

“You’re a liar.”

 

“Just leave me alone.”

 

“I don’t need you.”

 

And the whole time Dean stayed, he wiped Cas face and held him and got him water, and cleaned up his vomit. Cas wouldn’t remember, but Dean stayed and he cried harder than he had all day, but he took care of Cas. Getting him cleaned up and in bed with medicine on his nightstand for when he woke up. He plugged in Cas’s phone, and felt his own round of nausea when he saw the picture on his phone screen of Jo and Charlie smiling wildly on either side of a Cas that was obviously going through the motions.

 

Hours later when they both woke from fitful sleep in their own beds they stumbled out and didn’t meet each other’s eyes.

 

“Cas I...” Dean started to say.

 

“Don’t Dean, just forget about it.”

 

Dean just nodded, grabbed his keys and left.

 

He didn’t hear Cas say “You were supposed to come with me.”

 

@@@

 

A few weeks later and no more stolen kisses

 

Dean’s face hurt from smiling. The weeks had passed in a blur of finals and any excuse to avoid the apartment they shared, and just like that, graduation day was upon them. Dean walked across a stage and accepted a diploma he’d doubted many times he’d ever see. He’d looked up and smiled despite himself when he’d heard them call Castiel Novak’s name, even catching his eye after and giving him a thumbs up and cringing at the tight-lipped smile he’d gotten in return. He’d hooped and hollered at Jo’s name and again at Charlies and a handful of other students he’d come to know throughout his years.

 

He’d felt more emotional than he cared to admit when he found Sam in the crowd, openly crying over his accomplishment.

 

Jo’s mom had yelled at him to get his scrawny ass over there and let her hug his neck, and ever since then it had been picture after picture of them all smiling too broadly for the camera. He’d posed for pictures with his dad, who managed a gruff “proud of you, boy.” He’d posed for more genuine pictures with his uncle Bobby, who’d handed him a flask with his initials on it and told him he’d made them all prouder than any family had a right to be.

 

All in all, it had been a good day, if bittersweet, and he was overwhelmed and as close to happy as he had been in weeks.

 

“Deano! Come take a pic” He heard yelled through the crowd. Dean turned to see Cas standing around what family he had left, three older brothers, two who looked on stoically and one brother in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses with a bright pink hello kitty phone in one hand waving wildly to get his attention. He put on his best fake smile, wandered over and immediately regretted it as Cas’s eccentric brother Gabriel wrapped around him, pounding him on the back.

 

“You looked good up there Winchester, didn’t know you could clean up so well.” Gabe happily exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, well at least one of us does” Dean said with a genuine grin, tugging at Gabriel’s beard playfully.

 

“It’s your graduation, not mine, and you know I’m still on the lamb from that poker deal gone wrong.” Gabe laughed good naturally. “Come on man, we need a pic of you and Cassy here. You guys started this mess together, we gotta get a pic of the end of your college boy era.”

 

Dean clenched his jaw around the bile threatening to rise in his throat. “Yeah, uh... of course.” He managed to say, sliding over next to Cas, and stiffly putting his arm around Cas’s shoulder. The smiles were strained for the first couple of pictures, but despite everything that had happened between them, the feel of Cas next to him was familiar and as comforting as it was painful. Dean took a deep breath, let it out shakily and pulled him in a little tighter. It would be months before Dean would see the picture. See the genuine smile as he all but clung to Castiel, but more importantly, the look on Castiel’s face that said something a thousand kisses never could convey.

 

Sometime during the heartache and the silence and the stolen kisses Cas had apparently gotten with the program, and all of those feelings that Dean had been hiding for years were very evident on Cas’s face. There was love there, painfully apparent to everyone around them.

 

Everyone except Dean.

 

@@@

 

“That’s the last of ‘em.” Dean said, closing the back of the U-Haul they’d been unloading for hours. With Cas leaving for New York and Sam now officially starting his sophomore year at KU it had seemed like the perfect time to invest in a new place. Charlie and Jo had found them a house to rent, and with the four of them pooling their money...albeit Sam providing less than the other three…they were all set to settle in to a cozy new life together. Dean knew the other three had offered up the idea more out of concern for him, it was the unspoken thing between them all now. No one talked about what had happened with Cas, everyone doggedly determined to remain neutral. Dean and Cas for their parts refused to acknowledge that anything had happened. They would change the subject if asked, making jokes in Dean’s case, or feigning ignorance in Cas’s, but it was clear that something had happened, and neither was handling it well.

 

Cas’s things had been mostly sold, what few possessions he had wanted to keep had been boxed up and shipped out to a waiting Gabriel that had taken up permanent residence in New York a few years prior. Separating their things had proven difficult and in the end they had both carried out the tasks without care, many things being unintentionally or sometimes completely intentionally placed in incorrect boxes. Cas looked the other way when Dean held on to his Freshman KU hoodie. Dean determinedly didn’t notice when Cas snuck in the first season of Dr Sexy in with his own DVD’s. It wasn’t acknowledged, not out loud. They were separating, and both needed some small tokens of each other.

 

Despite Cas’s things being gone for a week now he had found excuses to stay until they moved in to the house. He wouldn’t admit it out loud to any one but Charlie, but he needed to see Dean settled before he took off. His heart was broken, and seeing Dean in a new place was painful, but he’d held out hope that seeing Dean in a new home surrounded by people who loved him would provide some measure of relief for the now permanent ache in his chest.

 

He was wrong.

 

His original plan had been to drink the night away with his friends…the people who’d become like family to him over the last four years. They’d eat pizza, and play games, and drink their weight in alcohol and he’d have his feelings of closure. But the more boxes he carried, the more he watched Dean’s life fill up the space, mementos of _his life,_ the worse he felt. By the time dinner had been ordered and everyone else had settled in for their night of drinking and fun Cas couldn’t overlook the feelings of being no longer a part of this family he’d created. He’d laughed a second too late behind every joke, his thoughts far away and his throat thick with emotions, and everyone could see it had become strained.

 

For all their awkwardness at being caught in the middle, his friends put out a valiant effort to act as though they didn’t notice the tension surrounding him like a cloud. Finally, when the pizza was finished and cleared away, he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. The plans of staying on the couch for the night were quickly abandoned and he found himself stuttering around an excuse to leave.

 

“My um...my flight, it’s pretty early.” He’d said vaguely, reaching down to grab his bag.

 

Jo had huffed under her breath but she didn’t challenge him. His flight wasn’t until noon and they all knew it.

 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to miss your flight” Charlie said, staring pointedly as though she was trying to communicate something to him from sheer will alone.

 

“Makes more sense to stay at a hotel near the airport.” He grumbled, no longer quite able to meet her eyes.

 

There were forced goodbyes, some quickly wiped away tears, and promises to call. No one meant it, they all knew it. Dean and Cas were a package deal. Dean and the rest of them were also. They might have good intentions, but Cas was making his choice and whether it was intentional or fair was irrelevant. Only Sam, poor little young Sam, seemed oblivious to this unspoken pact to sever ties. He sincerely hugged Cas, told him he’d be waiting for his call letting them all know he’d made it ok, and Cas said a silent prayer thanking whoever had seen fit to send this defacto baby brother in to his life. He’d pulled away from their embrace with some reluctance, and assured Sam that he would call. A promise he fully intended to...and did make.

 

Finally, the time had come and there was only Dean. Funnily enough there had only ever really been Dean, a fact that Cas had kicked himself for a dozen times for not noticing before now.

 

“Dean, I...” Cas trailed off, not even beginning to know what to say or how to say it.

 

“Yeah…me too.” Dean had finally said, unable to look Cas in the eye.

 

Cas swallowed hard, squared his shoulder, grabbed his bag, and with one last “well, I’ll see you around I guess” he was out the door. He made it almost all the way to the bus stop before he felt more than heard Dean and he stilled.

 

“Cas wait” Dean said, despite the fact that Cas wasn’t moving.  He caught up and stood in front of Cas, a fact that Cas registered by staring determinedly at the ground in front of him.

 

“What is there left to say?” Cas asked.

 

_Come with me_ he screamed inside his own head.

 

“Cas, I…I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you.” Dean said, voice cracking with emotion.

 

_I’m sorry_ He repeated in his head. _Ask me to come with you_ He pleaded silently

 

Cas forced his head up, meeting Deans gaze and nearly collapsing with the weight of it.

 

“I understand Dean. I wish I’d understood earlier.” He said

 

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, pleaded really.

 

_Just say it Dean_ begged

 

_I love you_ Cas meant to say _I love you, and I didn’t need a thousand stupid kisses to know it_

“I don’t know, I understand why we’re broken I guess, I understand its my fault.” He said instead.

 

“Cas wait, that’s not...”

 

“I have to go Dean.”

“Please...” Dean managed to choke out around a sob.

 

“Please what?” Cas said _Ask me to stay, ask to go with me, ask me anything._

Dean gripped his hair in frustration. “Fuck” he all but yelled.

 

“I have to go” Cas said quietly, and with those four words he felt himself break in ways he didn’t even know he still possessed.

 

Cas pushed past Dean, headed straight for the bus that was just pulling up.

 

“Cas wait” Dean said again, running up to him at the door.

 

He cupped Cas’s face, a mirror to their first kiss all those months ago, and he kissed Cas goodbye.

 

It was Dean that moved this time, and Cas, standing still, fell apart without moving a muscle. Dean didn’t remember the taste of beer on Cas’s lips the night of their first kiss, but he would never forget the salty taste of Cas’s tears that day at the bus stop.

 

He pulled away, planting another barely there kiss the way Cas had. What Dean had become to think of as Cas’s signature. Whispered “Goodbye Cas” turned on his heel and walked back to his new house, no longer a boy, now a very broken man with 55 stolen kisses as the only thing to remind him of what he’d had and lost.

 

@@@

 

Days turned in to months, holidays came and went, and slowly Dean and Cas began to build lives apart from each other. They’d occasionally email, sometimes with news

 

“Gabriel met someone”

 

“Charlie popped the question, you’ll be back for the wedding, right?”

 

Sometimes with little tidbits of their lives

 

“turns out I hate New York”

 

“I learned to make my own salad dressing, and you’ll never guess, I still hate salad.”

 

And on the dark and lonely nights, sometimes their feelings

 

“I went to central park and I didn’t think of you once, but when I got home I cried for an hour and punched a mirror”

 

“I love you so much it hurts to breathe”

 

“I miss you”

 

“come home”

 

“I want to come home”

 

But in typical fashion, neither of them ever hit “send.”

 

@@@

 

4 years and no more kisses later

 

Dean sat staring at his phone, he’d lost count of how long it had been at this point. The day had started out like any other. He got up, he ran, he told himself today would be the day he didn’t think about Cas, and he immediately failed as soon as his shoes hit the pavement. He hated running, he’d only ever started to appease his freshman roommate who liked to run. After Cas left he’d kept running as a way to punish himself. Now he ran as a way to remember.

 

He came home, he showered, he dressed, he went to a job he only partially hated. He ate lunch with people he kind of liked. He finished up his day, he logged off his computer, he drove his beloved car home.

 

He checked the mail

 

He took off his tie

 

He answered a phone call

 

“Mister Winchester, I’m sorry to tell you sir, but there’s been an accident.” The woman had said.

 

“Your father didn’t make it”

 

“His heart gave out and they couldn’t resuscitate.

 

Dean heard everything she said through a fog. He thanked her, and isn’t that funny? Who thanks someone for telling them their only living parent has died?

 

He sat down and waited, he really needed to call Sam, but first he needed to breathe.

 

He should call Bobby. Jo’s mom, Ellen. The funeral home. Someone. Any one of a half a dozen phone calls should have been made.

 

Instead he sent a text:

 

'My dad is gone.'

 

He sent a text to the last person he should have thought of in that moment, and the only one he wanted to talk to.

 

Within minutes he received the response:

 

'I booked a flight, ill be there in the morning.'

 

@@@

 

True to his word, Cas came. He boarded a flight and was half way across the country before he stopped to wonder if he should go at all. Dean hadn’t responded, he hadn’t asked him to come, he hadn’t said anything. Maybe his presence wouldn’t be wanted. Maybe Cas had been one of many people to be notified, a check list of people who might want to know.

 

But no, that wasn’t right, and even as his mind tried to assault him with “what ifs” he just knew. He knew when the ache in his chest began to subside for the first time in years. He knew when he felt calm. For better or for worse, Dean wanted him there, and whatever had transpired between them didn’t matter.

 

Dean wanted him

 

Dean needed him

 

He exited the plane without another thought to the contrary, picked up his luggage and hailed a cab, giving them the address of the house he’d moved his friends in to four years ago. He popped some mints in his mouth, attempted to smooth down the mess of hair that he’d never quite learned how to control, even now. He rubbed sweaty palms against his dress slacks and tried to control his heart.

 

But Dean wasn’t there. The little house was full of bustling college students now. Everything changed from how he remembered it when he sat awake for hours on end, drinking and thinking of what he’d left behind.

 

He sat at the same bus stop that had taken him away and scrolled through his phone attempting to locate a phone number of someone he knew before settling on Sam’s, fearing to call Dean and find out that maybe he wasn’t really wanted after all.

 

“Cas!” Sam said with enthusiasm. “I don’t understand, you’re in Kansas?” Sam asked incredulously.

 

“Yeah, I um… I’m sorry to hear about your father, Sam. I just…Dean text me and I thought...”

 

“Dean text you?” Sam interrupted.

 

“Ye…yes. He did. I came as soon as I heard.” Cas finished lamely.

 

“Huh. Well, I wish I could say it was under better circumstances, but I’m glad you’re there Cas.”

 

“I don’t understand... are you… not here?” Cas asked.

 

“Oh. Um, no, I’m headed to the airport now. I’ll be in later, but I’m in California, at Stanford actually.” Sam said, voice swelling a bit with pride.

 

“You got in? To Stanford law? That’s really great Sam.” Cas said, his own voice mirroring Sam’s pride.

 

“I thought you knew, I could have sworn that Dean said he’d emailed you.”

 

Cas paused at that. He had kept his old yahoo email active for years, always hoping that he’d see Dean’s familiar college email pop up. It had sat empty and neglected, its only real use to collect unsent drafts like a pathetic excuse for a diary. Is it possible that he’d missed a real email from Dean?

 

No. No that wasn’t possible. He would have seen. He would have responded. He might have finally sent all those drafts.

 

“I’m sorry Sam, I don’t know what happened, I must have missed it.” Cas finally said, and he truly meant he was sorry. He’d missed Sam. He hated himself for not knowing that Sam had attained his dreams of law school. He felt bile rise in his throat.

 

What else had he missed because he couldn’t just tell Dean how he felt?

 

“…I think Dean is at the funeral parlor” Sam was saying “but I can give you Charjo’s phone number”

 

“Charjo?”

 

“Charlie slash Jo. I’m trying it out, what do you think?” Sam asked.

 

“I...hate it” Cas answered truthfully and smiled despite himself when he heard Sam’s snort on the other end of the line.

 

“Yeah, they do too, hence why I’m not dropping it.” Sam said

 

“Oh, well in that case, Ill resign myself to using it.” Cas said.

 

“Good man.” Sam said. “alright I sent Charlie your number, she should be calling you all excited any second. Oh, and Cas?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Thanks for being there. For me, and for Dean.”

 

“Of course, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

 

@@@

 

Charlie had called and squealed appropriately, finally calmed down enough to figure out Cas was at the bus stop and had rushed over as soon as she could, only to jump from her little yellow car and squeal some more. She’d lept full body at him, wrapping him in a hug he wouldn’t have thought her strong enough to give and then promptly pulled back and punched him in the arm in rapid succession, loudly proclaiming “that’s for not calling sooner.”

 

“that for missing my wedding”

 

“and that’s for breaking my best friend’s heart.”

 

At the last he’d flinched, and then looked at her with so much sorrow she’d briefly thought about apologizing. It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to the house she shared with Jo that he finally got up the nerve to say quietly “I’m sorry I broke his heart, Char. I really am.”

 

She gave him a sad look of her own. “Yeah well, seems like he might have broken yours a bit too.”

 

“That he did. If I had it all to do over, I…”

 

“Well, none of that really matters now. You’re here, you came when he needed you, and I gotta think that as far as cosmic brownie points go, that’s gotta count for something.” She said.

 

“I kind of doubt that.” He said quietly, as she pulled in to the driveway.

 

“Yeah, Jo does too.” She said honestly. “She might try and stab you, so I wouldn’t turn my back on her if I were you.”

 

“Charlie Bradbury, I have never once turned my back on Joanna Beth Harvelle, and I’m hardly dumb enough to try that now.” He deadpanned at her.

 

“He is capable of self-preservation! By gods, he might be saved yet!” She said with a flourish.

 

“You really married that knife-wielding lunatic?” He asked her, teasing.

 

She just grinned her sunniest smile at him “sure as shit did!”

 

Cas’s grin fell a bit. “I’m sorry I missed the wedding Char.”

 

She patted his hand. “Hey at least you’ll be here for the birth of my first child.”

 

Cas gaped at her in horror. “You’re having a baby?!”

 

Charlie snorted “God no, I’m kidding, kids are the worst.”

 

Cas laughed at her “amen to that, Red.”

 

“CASTIEL NOVAK I’M GONNA KILL YOU” Jo barreled from the front porch.

 

“Oh fuck”

 

@@@

 

The night passed more quickly than Cas would have anticipated, once Jo warmed up to him a bit, and then next thing he knew it was morning, the sun starting to bleed in to the room in pink and orange tones, as they all finally wound down from a long night of catching up. Fitting back in with Charlie and Jo was both familiar and comforting, and new at the same time. They’d changed a lot, he’d changed more, the last of their college adolescence having given way to the hustle and bustle of late 20’s life. The nights of cheap beer and ramen noodles had been traded for craft beer and brunch. They were growing up, and somewhere around 2 am they’d all realized it. Its funny how adulthood can creep up on you; how when you live your day to day life you don’t necessarily see it, but the reemergence of an old friend kind of casts a spotlight on the things you just didn’t think to notice about yourself.

A quiet melancholy had settled over the group, each lost in their own thoughts about their choices and what the future would bring. Jo caught herself staring at the side of Charlies head, wondering how things would differ if she hadn’t been placed in a computer programming class by mistake, and in being completely out of her depth, had turned to the bubbly red-head who seemed willing to help. For a few agonizing minutes she considered life with a man, children, the things she wouldn’t have with Charlie, but then her wife turned her head just so and caught her eye and smiled that quiet smile that she reserved only for Jo, and Jo felt herself resettle.

She wouldn’t change a thing, and now looking at the makeup-less face of Charlie, her red hair seeming to glow around her in the filtered morning sun, Jo knew Charlie felt the same. They wouldn’t speak of it, it was the quiet understanding that came with your partner, when you were truly content, and though it had crept up on them, that contentment was bone deep in who they were. Neither existed without each other. It wasn’t even a question. Their future was here, together, whether they noticed it in the day to day or not.

 

Cas, as he so usually did, sat as an observer to the little exchange. He was less attuned to them than he had been years ago, but he had always been unusually observant, even if it didn’t always bring any clarity to the world around him. Cas was often confused by what he seemed to observe in humanity. So many people wore their hearts on their sleeves, and yet he still had trouble navigating the emotional complexities. Watching silent smiles and knowing looks between these two women, he wondered briefly if he was even capable of knowing someone that well. Of communicating things with nothing more than a look. He thought maybe at one time he had been able to do that with Dean, but now he wondered if he was still capable of something so intimate. He’d been alone a long time, even for someone so young, and he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that those insecurities plagued him often.

 

He thought about Dean, as he always did, though the years of beating himself up had mostly faded. Castiel no longer felt crippling guilt for how things had ended with Dean, his pain had settled in to something deeper. He had just accepted at some point that he was flawed. For all of his lectures years ago, things he hadn’t really believed at the time, he now just knew without uncertainty that he was actually emotionally stunted. He had hurt the one person who had given him hope that he could be something else.

 

The irony that He and Dean in their hay-day were a perfect mirror to Charlie and Jo was completely lost on him. Id love to tell you he’d realize it one day, but he never did. He knew somewhere deep down that he and Dean had orbited around each other from day one, instantly adapting to their new-found surroundings integral to each other’s lives. Even the men they had become, completely separated by both emotional and physical distance, they were still who they were because of each other. Their drives to better themselves both individually came from a thought of “would he be proud of me” just as much as their self-loathing was a bastardized version of that same thought in that “he’d be ashamed” was what they told themselves in their justification to remain distant. Their shared grief for a love had and lost had shaped them as much as any other significant loss they’d experienced in their lives.

 

They simply were who they were, because of each other.

 

Cas would never realize this.

 

But Dean had been thinking about it for years. Dean knew. He knew he’d never completely be his own person. He couldn’t. He’d given that part of himself away freely far before there had been any kisses shared.

 

And as he lay alone in his room, just a few blocks away from where Cas sat in Charlie and Jo’s living room unbeknownst to him, he thought as he so often did about just that.

 

_I don’t know how to do this without you. I never have. I need you here. I’m weak. I always have been. I should have told you. How do you tell someone you can’t exist without them? Even when they aren’t here, you can’t, you don’t know how._

Quietly Dean crept out of bed so as not to disturb Sam who was asleep downstairs. He opened his old laptop that he really should have replaced years ago, running his thumb across the warn sticker of Britney Spears that Cas had stuck on there as joke their junior year. His old email account had been deleted long ago, technology refusing to hold still for his aching heart no matter how much he resisted. Instead, he opened a blank word document, as he had taken to doing in the emails place.

 

_Cas,_

_I’m angry. Its been a long time since I’ve felt anything close to anger, which I probably should have noticed before now._

_But here I am, I haven’t slept in days that feel more like weeks, and I can honestly say I’m pissed._

_When my mom died I felt helpless, I was so young and so confused, but I understood even then that I had a purpose. My mom was gone. I’d never hear her sing, I’d never wake up to the sound of her hair dryer, or trip over her purse next to the door. And yeah, I didn’t get that then, couldn’t, I was just a kid. But I just knew somehow that her being gone meant I had work to do._

_I had to take care of Sam. I had to take care of dad. That was my job. I wasn’t ‘the man’ of the house. I was the caretaker. I didn’t think of it in those terms obviously, but that’s who I was. I did my job, I did it better than any kid could have, and I didn’t think about it too much. Never would let myself. It didn’t occur to me to hate my dad when I was 15 like the other kids. I had a job to do._

_And then I met you. Did I ever tell you I almost didn’t go to school? Sam had just finally started to hit the classes in high school that he didn’t just get easily. Kid had always been smart, but now all the sudden he had calculus and fuck if I understood it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Sam, and who would help him with this impossible fucking class. I got accepted to other schools, out of state, and I just couldn’t. Everyone tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen. Told Uncle Bobby I’d stay and work for him and that was that. Jo and Ellen filled out my application for KU. They looked out for me when I didn’t know how to do that for myself, and I agreed to go when Ellen threatened to hit me upside the head and drag me to every class by my ear. Wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for her. Wish I’d realized that before now. Suppose its too late to tell her._

_The point is, I had accepted who I was, right up until I met you. All of the sudden there was this nerdy little guy in my room that didn’t notice he was fucking hot. Just kept right on reading his books and running at ass o’clock in the morning, even on Saturdays when smart folks were sleeping one off, and god I wanted to take care of him too. It never occurred to me to think about taking care of Sam and Dad. That was my job._

_You were my choice._

_I chose you. I wanted you. I wanted you in my bed and in my life. I wanted you._

_And that was ok, I could make that choice because I thought you wanted me too. Maybe not in the same way, but I thought you fucking wanted me in some way._

_It was supposed to be us_

_You were supposed to choose us. You were supposed to choose me, dammit._

_And then you left. You left and I fucking broke apart and I needed someone to take care of me. I never said it out loud I guess, and god bless the people that noticed and tried. But it wasn’t supposed to be them taking care of me. It was supposed to be you._

_That’s what you do when you love people, you son of a bitch. You take care of them._

_And now my dad is dead and what do I do? I turn to the one person who was suppose to take care of me. Because goddammit Cas, I still need that from you. I don’t even know where you are right now, probably somewhere in this shithole town that you left because you said you’d come and you wouldn’t say that if you didn’t mean it._

_And isn’t that the rub of it? I could have said it a dozen times-more even. I could have just said “I need you” and you would have come._

_And I’m angry. I’m fucking mad as hell that it took my dad fucking dying for me to say it. And I’m really fucking angry that I had to._

_And I don’t even have an email address to send this to. I’ll see you at some point this week, and I won’t tell you I really need you. And I don’t know if you’ll even be able to recognize that I do. That I always have._

_And fuck you for not knowing. Fuck you for not choosing me. Fuck you for not being here in my bed with me right now. Fuck you for not being here for years._

_I love you. I’m angry that I love you._

_And I’m still sorry_

 

@@@

 

The week flew by, and the next thing Cas knew it was the day of the funeral and he still hadn’t seen Dean. Truth be told, he could have, he hadn’t even really tried. He was scared.

 

Not of what Dean would say. Oddly enough, that was the last thing he was worried about. He’d grown accustomed to hearing Deans voice in his head. He’d thought about what Dean would say so often, he doubted anything that would or could be said would surprise him.

 

He was scared of himself.

 

Funerals aren’t exactly the time or the place for love declarations after all, and Cas wasn’t sure he had it in him to not open his mouth and have every thought and feeling just come pouring out. Which ok, admittedly that was pretty out of character for him and he knew that, but you can only live with something for so long before you have to say it out loud. He was only human after all, despite the regular jokes that Gabriel made at his expense.

 

So he found excuses to stay away, helping with arrangements through Sam, going out of his way to see Bobby and Ellen and literally anyone and everyone but Dean.

 

The day of the funeral he got up, dressed in a suit and a tie he couldn’t get strait no matter how many times he tried because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He tried to fix his hair, failed, gave up and ran his hands through it in frustration the way he’d seen Dean do a thousand times.

 

He drove with Jo, he sat in the back, he tried to grieve and found that he couldn’t. All he could do was hold his breath and stare at the back of a golden head of hair sitting in the front row and bide his time to do what he came here to do. Hopefully that didn’t involve him making a fool of himself. He wasn’t here for that, he was here to take care of Dean, the way he should have been all along.

 

@@@

 

The funeral passed in a haze that Dean would never forget, and never be able to remember clearly either. Per his fathers wishes, he’d been cremated, so there wasn’t a body to cry over at least, just a glossy photo from decades before sitting on a tripod next to an urn and a podium in which a handful of people had stood behind and spoke platitudes about a man that was kind of terrible, and yet still loved. Sam spoke, and Dean remembered the strain in his voice if not his words. Bobby spoke and it was a little drunk, and gruff and brief and so stereotypical Bobby that Dean didn’t even actually have to hear his words to understand what he meant. Ellen stood behind that podium and whatever she said made several people tear up, but not her, she was too tough to cry in public and they all knew it. Before long it was over, people looking at him expectantly to see of he would say something as they all assumed he would, but he didn’t have words and he thought his dad would understand that.

 

After it was all said and done, the urn passed off to an attendant of some sort to be done god-only-knows what with, they all packed up and headed for Ellen’s bar. There was food, and liquor which seemed only fitting for the man that had not only drank his feelings but taught his boys to do the same. It was more crowded than Dean had expected, and years later he would still loudly complain that he had no idea who those people were and why they were there. He was passed off, one conversation bleeding in to the next with faces he couldn’t focus on and with every passing “I’m sorry for your loss, I know you were close” and “he was a helluva guy” Dean felt his heart rate spike and his vison swirl.

He couldn’t do this

 

Who were these people?

 

He wasn’t a helluva guy. He was an asshole who drank himself stupid and ignored his kids.

 

Dean didn’t care, he’d loved him anyway.

 

Deans hands shook and he couldn’t catch his breath and he thought for sure he was going to scream.

 

And then there was a warm hand on his elbow and he turned to see the blue eyes that had plagued his thought for years.

 

“Dean, breathe.” A gruff voice said.

 

“Look at me, follow my breath, in and out. That’s it. You’ve got this. Its ok. I’m here now.”

 

And slowly, very slowly, Deans heart rate slowed and the thunder in his ears quieted, the room quit spinning, snapping back in to place sharply, he took a shaky breath, in and out the way he was told.

 

He mirrored the breath of the man in front of him.

 

“Cas”

 

@@@

 

Eventually it was done, everyone gone and the last of the food packed away. It wasn’t even a question of where Cas would go, he stayed by Deans side, his hand a comforting weight on a shoulder or an arm, and once even a hip. He stayed, and despite it all, he was a grounding presence and Dean got through the funeral of a father he both loved and hated without yelling at any one. Cas was here, and it hurt, but the hurt was more of a dull ache than a sharp pain for both of them.

 

They wordlessly drove back to Deans place, and Dean pretended not to notice when Cas sucked in a sharp breath. He cut the engine, but neither of them made a move, staring at the outside of a building that was as familiar as it was foreign.

 

“You live here.” Cas finally said quietly, a declaration more than a whisper.

 

Dean subconsciously rubbed the back of his head, and if Cas had been capable, he would have looked and seen the tale-tail creep of a blush move up his still freckled and handsome face.

 

“I do.”

 

“Why?”

 

Dean sighed, preparing himself to tell a simple story with an anything but simple meaning.

 

“I thought I’d work for Bobby, you know? And I did for a while. Business management seemed like a smart move. But then I got word that a developer was buying up the apartment complexes in this area and remodeling them. There was a big push by the city, you know? Clean it up for the hipster kids or whatever. I watched them gut the place, and I thought I might throw up, but I couldn’t stay away. I used to drive over after work and just watch the construction crews. Eventually it was done and then I thought I would move on, but there was a job listing in my email the next week. They needed a property manager for all the buildings they renovated. Pay was shit, but it came with a residence on the ground floor.”

 

Cas smiled ruefully to himself “Remember when we were carrying that couch up all those stairs? God I was so pissed that we hadn’t gotten a ground floor apartment.”

 

Dean snorted “we couldn’t afford it. There was a 50-dollar fee for the ground floor.”

 

“Seems funny now.”

 

“Hmm” Dean hummed his agreement.

 

“So, you left Bobby’s?” Cas asked, sparing a tentative glance.

 

“Hm?” Dean asked, lost in thought. “Oh, uh no. Bobby hired a manager, but I still run the books and the business end of things. Bobby’s pretty much retired now. I do both.”

 

Cas turned, facing Dean and searching his face.

 

_I love you for this_ He thought

 

“That’s a lot of work” he said instead.

 

Dean laughed, short but clear and bright, and rolled his eyes. “I’m a glorified handyman, ain’t exactly the Ritz Cas.”

 

After a beat of silence they got out and went inside, Cas subconsciously holding his breath as they walked inside. I’m not sure what he expected, maybe water stains on the ceiling and chipped Formica in the kitchen, but it was nothing like the place they’d lived in before. It was larger than the unit they’d shared, the furniture matched, the walls were painted, the countertops gleamed dully in the soft light Dean had left on that morning.

 

The tattered Led Zeppelin poster was gone, and in its place, records had been framed and hung symmetrically on the walls in matching black frames. The KU flag that had served as a make-shift curtain was no where to be seen, but the magnets they’d found at the gas station when they’d road-tripped to Texas were there on the fridge.

 

The threadbare blanket that Dean’s grandma had sewn before he was born was folded in a basket, tucked behind the edge of the couch.

 

Dean’s leather jacket hung on a peg by the door.

 

There were bookshelves lined with paperback books Dean used to deny he read. There was a small framed photograph. Dean’s strained smile, cap and gown lopsided, arm thrown around the shoulder of Cas as Cas looked at the side of his face like he held all the answers to the world in his freckles alone.

 

Cas sat the frame back on the bookcase, unconscious that he’d even picked it up. He’d seen it often enough. His own copy sat on his desk at home in New York. Both there, and here, a tangible reminder of what was and still is and what should have been if they’d had the nerve to speak how they felt.

 

“You want a drink?” Dean asked, loosening his tie and toeing off his shoes by the door.

 

And like that, the moment was broken. Cas pulled himself out of his memories and melancholy. They’d serve him no purpose here. He forced himself to the present. He accepted his drink, sat across from the love of his life, on matching furniture no less, and set out to get to know the man he’d become.

 

Conversation was slow at first, coming in starts and stops when they crossed in to territory neither of them quite knew how to approach. There was little information shared about lovers, not having been many to speak of on either of their parts. Family was easier, Sam’s accomplishments and how tall he’d gotten, continuing to grow even in his 20s. Gabriel and his whirlwind romance with Kali, that ended in a hotel fire no one spoke about in Cas’s life, but that had Dean wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed.

 

Cas would occasionally get distracted, he’d trail off mid-sentence as he noticed new things about a familiar face. The softness was mostly gone, still younger in appearance than in truth, but the boylike roundness to Deans features had smoothed out to in to stubble and a sharp jaw and features more ruggedly handsome and manly than they’d been 4 years ago.

 

Dean would occasionally lose his train of thought at the intensity of Cas’s scrutiny. He’d spent years getting used to the blue of Cas’s eyes, followed by years of torturing himself with the memory of them, and even now he could smack himself for not remembering them correctly. The color, sure, he knew that, but the intensity. His imagination couldn’t conjure that up.

 

They laughed a lot, and when they weren’t laughing, neither of them hid their hurt. It seemed pointless now, sitting here in the quiet, whisky making them pliant and the events of the day leaving them both drained. They didn’t talk about it. They’d hurt each other, it was evident in their stories, in the armor they both wore subconsciously, the walls they’d built around themselves to never hurt like that again.

 

As it had done with Charlie and Jo, the night wore on, and the conversations petered out to something quiet and contemplative.

 

“I should probably...”

 

“Would you like to stay?” They said together, having sensed each other’s unease.

 

A silence fell, heavy between them.

 

“Is that what you want?” Dean finally asked quietly.

 

“No.” Cas answered hesitantly.

 

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.” Dean said, voice turning ever so slightly hard.

 

Cas was scared, but he didn’t look away. “I don’t want to go, but yes, I probably should.” He said honestly.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I want to stay. I want to stay and I want to pretend like there isn’t this wall of hurt between us. And truthfully, I probably could do that. I could pretend, I could sleep on the couch, or worse, in your bed, and I could act like being around you doesn’t tear me in two, but I didn’t come here to fake things with you, Dean. I could, but I won’t.” Cas said, and god did that hurt to admit out loud.

 

“Then why did you come?” Dean asked

 

Cas shook his head “I don’t know” he said.

 

“Bullshit.” Dean snapped back.

 

“I don’t know” Cas said again, but it sounded weak to him and he knew it did to Dean too.

 

He watched Dean’s face fall.

 

“I could come back tomorrow” Cas offered.

 

Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes “yeah, sure.”

 

“Dean please” Cas said “I don’t want to fight with you, I just...”

 

Dean snapped his head up, leveling Cas with a glare. “You just what, Cas? Please enlighten me, you just what? Two minutes ago you didn’t know anything, now you got something to say?”

 

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Cas admitted.

 

Dean snorted and crossed his arms “take advantage of me? How in the fuck would you be taking advantage of me?”

 

Cas paused, unsure how to proceed, the words seeming more and more ridiculous even to himself the closer he got to admitting them out loud. “Your dad just died, and I don’t want…I don’t know how to…I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and hate me even more.”

 

“Hate you?” Dean said incredulously. “You think I hate you? You think I’ve been a miserable son of a bitch for years and we’re fighting right now, on this night of all nights because I hate you?”

 

“Yes?” Cas asked

 

“You’re fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?”

 

“So I’ve been told.” Cas said miserably.

 

“You know what Cas, maybe I do. Maybe I hate you, but not because you left me, or broke my heart, or didn’t want me the way I want you. Maybe I hate you because you can’t even be honest with me, even now after all this bullshit. Maybe its because my dad just died and you got on a plane and you flew all the way here and you still can’t look me in the eye and just tell me why you did that. Why you left. Why you didn’t want me, or us, or however you think about it in your head. Fuck you Cas.”

 

Cas stood to his feet, Dean quickly mirroring him

 

“Oh, because you’re the best at expressing your feelings, right Dean? I forgot, oh so emotional Dean, you’ve always told me exactly how you’re feeling, is that right?”

 

“Of course not!” Dean yelled “how could I?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cas yelled back

 

“Castiel and all his lectures about how he wasn’t capable of relationships, mocking me for wanting the apple pie life. You made it impossible. What was I suppose to do, bare my heart to you man so you could turn it in to a joke over beers at the Roadhouse?”

 

“Oh fuck you, I would have never done that” Cas spat at him

 

Dean glared, ice in his veins, he stepped up, crowding in to Cas’s space. “That’s all you ever did. And I was going to tell you anyway, I was going to risk you hurting me and mocking me, had it all planned out too, and then you came home piss drunk and told me to leave you alone.”

 

“I did not.”

 

“Yes, you did” Dean practically hissed out. “You did, and then you left, and whether I said it or not, you knew, and you left anyway.”

 

“Yeah, I did Dean. I left.” Cas said, defeated. “You never said anything, I left, and you were supposed to come after me, but you didn’t do that either, so don’t stand here and tell me this is all on me, because it isn’t and you know it.”

 

Dean grit his teeth, turned away and blinked back tears “yeah, you’re right. I could have followed you, would have if you’d asked, but I wasn’t going to do that if you didn’t want me there Cas. And I still won’t. If you’re going, go, but I’m not going to chase you. You leave, you don’t come back.”

 

“Dean.” Cas said, reaching out, and then pulling back. “That’s…that’s not what I want, that’s never what I wanted.”

 

“Then don’t go” Dean said. Quietly. He didn’t turn, couldn’t, kept his back to Cas and his eyes trained on the couch. “I can do this, if you want me, if you let me, but you have to choose us. I can’t go through this again, I just can’t. You want this, you stay.”

 

“Ok”

 

Dean turned slightly and looked back at Cas. “Do you mean that?”

 

Cas nodded

 

“And what about tomorrow? What about New York? Your life there?” Dean asked.

 

“I don’t know” Cas said truthfully. “I don’t know where we go from here, if we go from here. I have a job, and a life, and I can’t pretend like those things don’t matter. But I’m here now, and I don’t want to leave, and I can’t go through this again either.”

 

Cas hesitated, but then he did reach out. He took Dean by the shoulders, turned him, and looked him in the eye, even as his knees shook. “I love you” He said simply

 

“I know” Dean said in return

 

And this time, for this kiss, they both moved. It was gentle, Cas’s hands cupping Deans face and pulling him in, Deans balled his hands in to fist, gripping the front of Cas’s shirt. Their lips met, firm but still soft. They seemed to melt in to each other. It was Cas’s turn to taste Dean’s tear, one single solitary tear that slipped past his eyelids when they closed, rolling down to meet their lips. Cas licked across Dean’s lip, licking it away, and felt Dean’s own lips part to give way. It was sweet, and tender, electric under their skin in ways that their first kiss, and all subsequent kisses hadn’t been. It turned heated, but underneath that heat was a quiet sizzle, something that had always been there, made stronger by a pain that had kept them joined for years even if they didn’t know it.

 

Breath became ragged, and eventually they pulled apart, but never far. Breathing each other in as hands slid under shirts and undid belt buckles and they stumbled their way through an apartment that was both new and old. There were kisses freely given, no longer a need for them to be stolen. I tongue on Cas’s adam’s apple, followed by the soft press of Dean’s mouth. Fingers gripped for purchase on skin in ways that they had both dreamed about but never touched. Angry red welts left by nails, only to be soothed by tongue and lips as they went. Their bodies came together, beneath sheets, selves laid bare but only for each other to see. Dean came apart in Cas’s arms first, shaking beneath his body and when he did Cas kissed him gently, on lips, and chin, and anywhere that he could reach. Cas was soon to follow, chasing his pleasure in Dean’s body and feeling that pain in his chest finally give way as his body reached its own release. And as he lay there, tingly and out of breath and refusing to loosen his grip on Dean’s strong shoulders beneath him, Dean ever so gently laid their 84th kiss against the pulse of Cas’s neck, his heart beating wildly beneath the skin.

 

Afterward, when messes were cleaned away and they lay in each other’s arms, not talking about the flight Cas was supposed to be on in a few short hours, when Dean thought Cas was asleep, there was a gentle kiss number 89 to Cas’s knuckles, and an _I love you too_ whispered.

 

Cas heard it anyway

 

@@@

 

One year, and an unknown number of kisses later.

 

Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly for the fifth time. Dean was once again regaling everyone with his harrowing story of surviving a turbulent flight.

 

“I swear, even the flight attendant was scared. It was fucking terrifying, I can’t believe I made it”

 

Dean had been telling an increasingly more dramatic version of this story for two days. Sam had indulged him, but if Dean didn’t find something else to talk about soon Sam was going to stab him on principle alone.

 

“Anyway, you have the ticket’s, right? Stanford graduations are huge Dean, if you don’t have a ticket you aren’t getting a seat.” Sam said, also for the fifth time.

 

“Will you shut up already about the damn tickets, I said I have them, I have them” Dean grumbled at him. Dean didn’t have the tickets, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Sam. Poor kid was already on pins and needles as it was.

 

“Alright, I gotta go, I’ll see you there, and Dean, don’t worry, he’ll be here.” Sam said clapping his brother on the back, before darting off to his tiny stupid Prius to make his way to the event hall for his graduation.

 

Dean had been here for nearly a week, and while he liked the sunshine and palling around with his brother, Dean was antsy and everyone knew it.

 

Cas had stayed a few extra days with Dean, but as it goes with life, eventually Cas had to admit defeat and return to New York.

 

There had been many kisses exchanged, Dean figured they had to be creeping up on a thousand by now, some of them tearful at the airport, but where there had been the pain of loss before, now there was the pain of waiting. They’d agreed, there wasn’t any going back, and while Dean hadn’t gotten any better at saying “I love you” out loud in the light of day, there was no mistaking what was there was real, and as lasting as all the pain they had endured.

 

They’d spent the year getting to know each other again, through text messages and phone calls and skype calls where they learned that Cas had a bit of an exhibitionist kink, and Dean’s blush could indeed still be seen over a computer screen if the WIFI was good enough.

 

But they’d been apart, and as much as they’d both enjoyed getting to know each other again, Dean was antsy to see Cas in person.

 

He got ready ridiculously early so he could meet Cas at the airport, and tried to swallow down his disappointment when he’d gotten the text that Cas’s flight had been delayed and he’d have to meet him at the ceremony. As the music started to play and everyone began filing in and taking their places Dean had begun to pace. Cas was late and he was going to miss his brother’s graduation because Dean had thought it’d be romantic to have their tickets sent to Cas instead.

He was just working himself in to a full-blown panic, sorely tempted to sneak a drink from the flask he had in his pocket. This one a near replica of the one he’d received at his own graduation from his Uncle Bobby, save for the monogrammed initials of SW instead of DW, when he felt a firm hand grip his elbow and he immediately calmed. He had just a moment to register “Cas” before he was being spun around to blue eyes he’d missed sorely for over a year.

 

“It’s ok, I’m here, don’t panic. I’m sorry I’m late” Cas had said in a rush, before linking his hand with Dean and pulling them toward their seats, tickets firmly in his other hand.

 

The crowd hushed as Dean and Cas were finding their seats, wedged in amongst the crowd, with a quick nod to Bobby and Ellen, and then they settled in to wait through the speeches and the long list of names for one Samuel Winchester as he graduated to tears and applause from Stanford Law.

 

When Sam walked across the stage, Dean felt his chest tighten, and he now thought he understood how Bobby had felt when he’d talked about his pride at Dean’s own graduation. He was holding it together pretty well, all things considered, until he looked over at Cas to see Cas’s eyes a little shiny and the soft smile that Cas gave back, and without thought Dean leaned over and gave Cas kiss number 538.

 

After the graduation they’d all gone out for dinner, everyone teasing Sam about being a hick boy from a hick family, and how fancy he was now with his Stanford law degree. Sam pretended to be embarrassed, they all teased him even more loudly, and somewhere around his third beer Cas leaned in and gave Dean kiss number 539.

 

Later that night, when all the cheering a teasing had been done, everyone retired back to their various places of residence, which meant Cas and Dean checking in to a hotel and collapsing back on the bed in exhaustion. You’d think sex would have been a priority, it had been a year after all, but in truth they were both so tired, so those activities had been relegated to the next morning and they both got ready for bed quietly, not even realizing they had fallen back in to their cohabitating routine from their college days. If they’d been paying attention they would have noticed that they moved together as they always had, Cas putting toothpaste on Dean’s toothbrush as Dean grabbed them both glasses of water because Cas insisted that he had read somewhere that you should always drink a full 8 ounces of water before bed and Dean complied, even as he rolled his eyes. Dean had on Cas’s t shirt, Cas had on Dean’s sweatpants, and they both collapsed heavily in to bed, arguing over who would turn off the light for what had to be at least the thousandth time in their life together.

 

Cas laid down, after winning the rock-paper-scissors match over the light, which he always did, and snuggled back against Den, who’s eyes were closed before he even finished crawling in to bed.

They were both warm, and stated, not even aware of how content they felt in that moment.

 

Dean yawned, half asleep and nuzzled the top of Cas’s head unconsciously. “Hey Cas” he said drowsily.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I’m moving to New York.”

 

“OK”

 

 

.

.

.

“Wait, what do you mean you’re moving to New York?” Cas said, suddenly much more awake.

“You can’t move to New York.”

 

Dean went stiff behind him. “Oh, uh, I guess I thought…if you aren’t ready for that...”

 

“Dean wait” Cas said, even as Dean started to pull away. He turned over fast, facing Dean.

 

“I just…I thought you wanted that…I mean, we hadn’t talked about it, but…”

 

“Dean, stop”

 

“Its too fast right? It doesn’t feel too fast to me, but if you need time I can…” Dean stuttered, his heart starting to race.

 

“Dean, you can’t move to New York because I’m moving back to Kansas.” Cas said, cutting him off.

 

“What?” Dean said, doing a double take at him in the motel darkness, even though he couldn’t really see much.

 

“I got a teaching job at KU, they made me an offer and I accepted this week. I’ll be starting there in the fall. I’m moving back to Kansas. To you really, I don’t give a fuck if its Kansas or California or Moondor.”

 

“Did you just say Moondor?” Dean asked

 

“Shut up, Charlie sent me a link to this game thing, I don’t know, it stuck in my head I guess.”

 

“I don’t want to live in Moondor” Dean said, because of course he did.

 

Cas rolled his eyes “Of course you want to live in Moondor, they have chainmail and battle maces, but that’s not really the point. Tell me you didn’t quit your job.”

 

“Uh…” Dean said

 

And Cas kissed him, their 540th kiss to be exact.

 

It turned out, they weren’t actually as tired as they had thought.

 

@@@

 

Dean and Cas trailed behind Sam and Gabriel through central park, hands gripping each other tight and both equally horrified at the sight in front of them.

 

“Did your creepy older brother just check out Sam’s ass?” Dean asked with a shudder.

 

“I uh…I think he did. Did Sam giggle?” Cas asked equally repulsed. “What kind of grown man giggles?”

 

Everyone had been surprised to hear Sam say that he had passed the bar exam in New York and was planning on moving there, but Cas and Dean had offered to move him anyway. Apparently Sam had made plans to move in with Cas’s brother after they had met the summer before.

Now they knew why

 

Dean stopped short when he saw Gabriel slide his hand in the back pocket of Sam’s jeans.

 

“Cas. Kiss me, hurry, I can’t…I can’t look at that any more. Distract me, hurry”

 

So Cas kissed him, their 847th kiss, in central park.

 

@@@

 

“Cas, come on, don’t be like that.” Dean whined, rolling his eyes behind Cas’s retreating back.

 

“You don’t be like that.” Cas snapped back.

 

“Its just a shirt” Dean said “you’re being dramatic.”

 

Cas stopped and spun around so fast it surprised Dean, making him stumble back. “Its my shirt, you ass.”

 

Dean bit back a grin “are you sure? I think it’s mine.”

 

“You know good and goddamn well its my shirt” Cas said with a huff.

 

“Babe, come on, I’ll buy you a new shirt.” Dean said with a fake pout.

 

“I don’t want a new shirt.”

 

“Fine, what do you want?”

 

“I want you to use a dishtowel like every other gay man on the planet.” Cas grumbled.

 

Dean grinned, that cocky grin that made Cas furious. “Well that ain’t gonna happen.”

 

And as Cas squirmed away, Dean tackled him, wiping his soapy wet hands all over Cas’s face and this time he did steal a kiss, their 923rd.

 

@@@

 

Cas stopped, one minute they were walking and talking, hand in hand down the sidewalk on a slightly cold day, the weather just starting to turn with the fall, and then suddenly Cas just froze. Dean squinted at him in confusion, and looked across the street at the for-sale sign in the yard of the little brick home with the red door and the bee windchime hanging from the porch.

 

“See something you like Cas?” Dean teased, bumping their shoulders.

 

“Its perfect” Cas said, before turning toward Dean with a full smile, the gummy kind that made his nose crinkle. “Do you love it? I love it, can we go look at it?”

 

Dean’s eyes never even left Cas’s face. “I do love it” he said, but Cas was barely listening. Not for the first time, Dean snuck his hand in the pocket of his leather jacket, feeling the weight of the ring box he’d been caring around for weeks.

 

“Let’s call the agent and see if we can look inside” Dean said.

 

Cas turned to him, kissed him quickly, his eyes still open and bright, their 1000th kiss

 

In front of their house their house that they would soon buy

 

Where Dean would formally propose the night they moved in, when they were gross and sweaty and laying in the floor atop a threadbare blanket made by his grandma before he was born

 

Where the pipes would burst and they’d have to remodel

 

Where they’d have dinner parties

 

Where Cas would smile from the sidelines as Dean told the ridiculous story of their first kiss in a bar in which he had a plan and he made the first move

 

Where they’d share thousands of more kisses.

 

And Cas would see all the ways he could still make Dean blush.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Yell at me in the comments, I like it when you do


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